


Babysitter Bilbo

by Etaleah



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adorable Frodo Baggins, Amused Gandalf, Baby Frodo, Baby Hobbits, Babysitting, Between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, Child Frodo Baggins, Corporal Punishment, Cousins, Family Fluff, Gen, Hobbit Children, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Hobbiton, Hobbits, POV Bilbo Baggins, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Poor Bilbo, Post-Hobbit, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Sick Character, Sickfic, Some Humor, Spanking, Young Frodo Baggins, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 22:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etaleah/pseuds/Etaleah
Summary: When Bilbo offers to watch baby Frodo as a favor to his cousins, he discovers that caring for a little one is more of an adventure than he anticipated.





	1. The First Day

Bilbo Baggins could scarcely remember a time when he'd had this much fun. As he tore through the house with his eighteen-month-old cousin on his shoulders, making pretend animal growls and tickling Frodo's toes, he felt as though he could have been twenty years younger.

"Look at those lads," Primula said from the couch, where she sat with her knitting. "Two of a kind, they are."

"I can't think of a single hobbit our son loves more," Drogo agreed. The couple watched with warm smiles on their faces as Bilbo dumped a laughing Frodo into a chair. The little  _faunt_ kicked his feet and stretched out his arms.

"Bibbo!" he squealed with delight. "Bibbo play!"

"Don't wear him out now," Primula admonished gently. She stood up and took her son in her arms. "You're so good with him, Bilbo. When we told him we were coming to visit, he could barely contain himself."

Bilbo sat down. "I'm quite fond of him myself," he said. "He's a good lad." He studied Frodo's face and was proud of the way he looked around the house in awe. This was his first visit to Bilbo's house; he hadn't been deemed strong enough to travel until he was at least a year old, and when that time came, there had been an early frost and the weather had been too cold. So Primula and Drogo had decided to wait until spring, when Frodo could walk and be weaned from breastfeeding.

"Passie," Frodo said now, looking up at his mother. "I want passie."

Primula sighed. "All right, but you're getting too old for it." She turned to Drogo, who reached into his pocket.

"Passie?" Bilbo asked.

"Pacifier," she explained. Drogo handed it to her and Frodo popped it into his mouth and sucked on it happily. "I don't think it's very good for his teeth, but it's helped him wean, so we let him use it for now." Bilbo hoped she wouldn't take it away from him anytime soon. He thought Frodo had never looked more adorable.

"You know dear, we could-" But Drogo never finished his sentence because there came a pounding knock on the door. It sounded urgent, and Bilbo got up to answer it at once. The post-hobbit was standing there with a letter in his hand, looking sweaty.

"There a Miss Primula Baggins here?" he asked.

"Well yes, but she doesn't live here," Bilbo said, puzzled. "She's visiting with her family."

"Well I got a letter for her that's real important," the post-hobbit said. "I went to her house first, but the folks there told me she'd gone here. Wouldn't normally come all the way out here, but the folks who sent it said it's real important she reads it as soon as possible."

"All right then, I'll see to it she gets it. Thank you kindly," Bilbo said. He gave the post-hobbit a few gold coins for his trouble, and when the lad had gone, he handed the letter to Primula. She handed Frodo to her husband while she read it, and as she did so her face began to crumple and she wiped her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Bilbo asked, alarmed. Drogo read over her shoulder and he too wore a grave expression.

Primula took a deep breath. "I have a dear friend just outside of Bree- I don't think you've ever met her, her name is Lily." Bilbo shook his head; the name wasn't familiar. "Well, she writes in this letter that she has fallen gravely ill, and her husband broke his leg only days ago. The both of them are struggling to get around the house on their own and don't have many neighbors to help, so…"

"So they need your help?" Bilbo finished gently. Primula nodded.

"I'm so sorry, but it looks as though we'll have to cut our visit short," she said, folding the letter. "From the sound of her letter and her illness, we may be there as long as two months."

"We?" Drogo asked. His wife turned to him. "I'm sorry, but I feel it's best if one of us stay home with Frodo. At his age it could be dangerous to have him exposed to such a serious illness."

Primula thought for a moment. "You're probably right. As her friend, I must be the one to go. Maybe there's someone else we can call on for her husband. He needs help with getting dressed and other tasks that are not proper for ladies to take part in."

"You should both go," Bilbo spoke up. "Frodo can stay right here with me."

Primula and Drogo stared at him with open mouths. "Bilbo, we couldn't possibly-"

"It would be my pleasure," Bilbo said. He stood up and spread his arms. "I have more than enough room and this way you can both go. Your friend needs you, Primula, and will probably recover much quicker if she knows her husband is in good hands as well."

They were speechless. "But it's such a long time," Drogo said.

"Two months is not long at all," Bilbo insisted. "Why, at my age, it's like the blink of an eye. We'll be just fine, won't we, Frodo?" He waggled his fingers at the little lad, who smiled, unaware of the situation.

Primula's eyes were swimming with tears. "Are you sure?"

Bilbo gave her a gentle smile. "Think nothing of it."

* * *

The next two days were a flurry of activity. Drogo sent for his and Primula's suitcases and his wife made a list of what Frodo would need for his stay at Bilbo's. Drogo gathered medicines from the healer to take to Lily and her husband, and Primula wrote detailed instructions for Bilbo on Frodo's bedtime routines, what he liked to eat, what to do when he started crying, and so on. Bilbo thought that entirely unnecessary, but she had never been away from her son for so long and it made her feel better, so he let her get on with it.

When the carriage arrived, several working hobbits from the neighborhood pitched in to unload its contents and bring them into the house. Besides clothes and nappies and more toys than Bilbo thought was strictly necessary, the hobbits were lugging in a crib, a playpen, a high chair, a baby bathtub, a pram, a rocking chair, blankets, and a changing table.

Bilbo was flabbergasted. Just how much did one baby need? When Primula had said she'd send for Frodo's things, Bilbo had pictured maybe two bags of clothes, a sack of nappies, and a few favorite toys. He certainly hadn't been expecting new furniture. Just where she was she expecting him to put all of this?

"I'm sorry, I know it's a lot," she said nervously, biting her lip.

 _You can say that again._ But he smiled regardless. "That's all right. I'm sure there's a place for everything." Perhaps if he set his mind to it, he could see about turning the spare room into a suitable nursery.

A half hour later, the carriage was empty except for Primula and Drogo's suitcases, which had been fully packed. "Now we just need to see about getting everything into the spare room," Drogo said.

"Oh, don't trouble yourselves about that," Bilbo said. "You two have got people waiting on you. I can manage this myself, and I also have Gaffer to help me."

His cousins smiled and embraced him tightly, thanking him over and over. "Someday we shall repay you," Drogo promised.

"There's no need," Bilbo said. "I never had children of my own and, well, I suppose you could say that taking care of this little lad is a nice way for me to get a taste of what I never had. What might have been." Bilbo often pretended to be sorrier about being a bachelor than he actually was. It was extremely rare for a hobbit to be alone by choice, but although Bilbo liked children, he thought he got quite enough of them visiting relatives and attending neighborhood parties. He enjoyed sitting them on his lap and telling them stories at other hobbit-houses, but when he was in his own home he liked to relax with a pipe and a book.

Frodo was an exception though. Bilbo couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about the dear little lad that made him feel different, made him sad when the family had to leave. He was probably the only child in the world that Bilbo would ever agree to care for that long.

"You'd have been a lovely father, dear Bilbo," Primula said, kissing his cheek. Bilbo wasn't so sure about that, but he accepted the compliment regardless. "Frodo adores you. He'll be so happy."

Bilbo thought that perhaps Frodo did not adore him quite so much as Primula thought, because the minute his mother set him in his playpen and told him to be good for Uncle Bilbo, the lad began to cry. "Mumma! Mumma!" he whined, standing up and reaching out for her.

"Mummy will be back soon, love," Primula assured him, waving goodbye. "Bilbo, don't be afraid to write me if there are any problems, even small ones, all right?"

"Don't you worry about a thing," Bilbo called out to her as she and Drogo headed out the door and down the hill. "We'll be just fine." After exchanging a few more shouted words of parting, Bilbo shut the door and Frodo screamed.

_"Mumma! Mumma!"_

"She hasn't abandoned you, Frodo, Mumma just had to go on a little trip," Bilbo said.

"Mummaaaaa!" Bilbo became alarmed when tears began to leak out of his eyes and he quickly picked the little one up. Thinking fast, Bilbo tried making funny faces, but that didn't work. Then he tried singing silly songs, and that just made Frodo cry louder.

Bilbo was despondent. Frodo had never acted like this before. "Frodo, you do like me, don't you? I thought I was your favorite cousin."

"Mumma!" Frodo insisted. He threw back his head and whined her name over and over until Bilbo was at his wit's end. He took a peek out the door, but Primula was still helping to load up the carriage. He thought about calling for her to come back, but he couldn't bear to delay her when she needed to be getting out of here as quickly as possible. He tried the rocking chair to no avail and desperately looked out the window again. He knew what to do, but he didn't want Primula to see him do it. If she saw him sprinting for help only minutes after leaving her son in his care, he'd never hear the end of it. He put Frodo down for a minute and the shrieking  _faunt_ looked up at him in despair.

Finally the driver cracked the whip over the horses and the carriage rolled away with Primula in it. The minute she was out of sight, Bilbo picked up Frodo and ran as fast as he could to Gaffer's house. Luckily the hobbit answered on the first knock.

"I am so sorry to bother you on your day off, truly," Bilbo said, bouncing a still wailing Frodo. "But as you can see," he nodded at Frodo. "I have no idea what I'm doing. He's been crying for ten minutes, I can't get him to stop."

Gaffer only raised his eyebrows. "Come in please, Mr. Bilbo." He stepped aside and Bilbo gratefully entered. "This little one ain't yours, is he?"

"He is for the next two months," Bilbo said, practically having to shout over Frodo's cries. "His parents- my cousins- had to leave on an emergency. I agreed to take care of him for them, only I-"

"Only you're not sure how to take care of young'uns," Gaffer finished for him. Bilbo nodded.

"Again, I'm truly sorry to bother you about this, I know it's not fair, but-"

"Oh say no more!" Gaffer waved his hand. "You know it's our pleasure to help any way we can. Give him here." He held out his arms and Bilbo transferred Frodo to them. The little tyke had gone completely red-faced. "Oh, stop that now," Gaffer said soothingly, patting his back. "It's all right. Calm down, little feller."

Bilbo looked around awkwardly at Gaffer's little lads, Hamfast and Halfred. They were sitting on the floor and playing with marbles. Or at least they had been; now they were just staring awkwardly up at Bilbo. He couldn't imagine how he must look to them.

"What's all this crying?" Bell's voice came from the bedroom, and a minute later she came out to meet them. "Why, hello Mr. Bilbo! And who's this?" she asked, taking Frodo from Gaffer. That seemed to calm him down; his face began to regain its color and he resorted to sniffling. She rocked him a bit, stroking his hair.

"My little cousin Frodo," Bilbo said. "His parents just had to leave urgently, and he's staying with me for a while." He stroked Frodo's curls. "The lad misses his mother. I keep telling him she'll be back, but he doesn't understand."

Bell shook her head. "No, he won't understand." When Bilbo bowed his head she put her hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Mr. Bilbo. He just needs a little time. He'll get used to you."

Bilbo gave a weak smile. "This is probably going to sound like an absurd question, but what exactly do you  _do_  when a baby starts crying? I mean, what do I do first? Try to feed him, hold him, or just wait it out?" He had never dealt with crying before; in the past he'd simply handed children off to their parents whenever they started getting emotional.

"You try a bit of everything and see what works," Gaffer said. He pointed to his sons. "That's what I did with these two. First you try the obvious things like feedin' 'em. Then if that don't work, you try a few toys and a little rocking. If none of that works, then you'll have to either take him to a healer or wait it out."

"How will I know which one to do?" Bilbo asked. He wondered if he ought to take notes.  _This_ was why he didn't have children. They were always far more complicated than they looked.

"Mr. Bilbo," Bell said, and gestured for him to sit down. He did so and she sat with him at the table, holding Frodo on her lap. Gaffer shooed his sons outside and fetched some tea for his guest. "I understand you being nervous and all, but you just need some time. When we first started out we was nervous too, but now we know our lads so well we can tell what's wrong with 'em just by the way they cry. We know when they need a clean nappy before they do."

"Really?" Bilbo felt a small bit of hope. "You think if I spend enough time with Frodo, I'll be able to tell?"

"Well with the nappies, you can tell by the smell," Gaffer said, cleaning his teeth with a piece of hay. Bell shot him a dirty look- she hated when he did that at the table, but he ignored her. "And with everything else, yeah, you just need some time. You're a smart hobbit, Mr. Bilbo, you'll do a fine job."

"And it's only your first day," Bell reminded him.

"Yes, my first day and I'm already running to you for help," Bilbo joked.

"Ain't nothing wrong with that," Bell said firmly. "You feel free to come find us whenever something's wrong."

"Thank you," Bilbo said, sipping his tea. He gestured to Frodo. "Look at that. Perfectly calm. I swear some lasses have the magic touch."

"It takes a while to develop, but yes," Bell said proudly. "I do like to think I know babes."

"Mm." Bilbo took a sip of his tea. He wondered if perhaps he was in for more than he had bargained for.


	2. First Times

_Thank goodness for Bell,_ Bilbo thought as he brought Frodo back inside. She had gotten him to sleep in only a few minutes, saying the crying had worn him out, and Bilbo carefully laid him in his crib and covered him with a blanket.

"Now there'll be no more of that nonsense, you understand?" he whispered. "You're not to do any more crying for no good reason!" He left Frodo to sleep and fixed himself some lunch, but after he finished it, he wasn't sure what to do next. Bilbo was desperate to do something about all the furniture in the middle of his house, but he was afraid to move anything lest the noise wake Frodo up. He finally decided to chance it by moving as quietly as he could.

Fortunately Frodo slept soundly. Bilbo propped open the door of the spare room and set the changing table in one corner with a stack of nappies and put the baby clothes in the dresser he kept in the other. The high chair was relegated to the table, and the rocking chair went next to the space Bilbo planned to reserve for the crib, which he would move when Frodo was awake. The playpen he allowed to stay in the living room.

Bilbo stood back and admired his work. It wasn't the greatest nursery in the Shire, but under the circumstances it would do quite nicely. He passed the next hour quietly with his pipe and a book, and soon he heard the baby stir in his crib.

"Bibbo," Frodo said, and Bilbo smiled and put away his book and pipe.

"Hullo there," he said cheerfully, walking to the crib. "Glad to see you're in a better frame of mind- good gracious!" He recoiled and covered his nose with his hand. He started to call Primula's name only to remember with a sense of dread that she wasn't there.

"Looks like Uncle Bilbo's going to be the one changing your nappies from now on," Bilbo said glumly. He slowly picked Frodo up and wondered how on earth the  _faunt_ wasn't bothered by the smell. It was getting so bad Bilbo thought it would knock him over, and his stomach was turning as he was forced to remove his fingers from his nose.

He laid Frodo on the changing table and slipped his trousers off. When the nappy was open, Bilbo thought he would faint. He turned away for a moment and gagged. "What on earth are your parents feeding you?" he asked, feeling a little green. "I hope for both our sakes it won't always be like this."

Little by little he forced himself to remove the nappy and disposed of it as fast as he could, gasping for breath once it was gone. He remembered that Primula had been humming and smiling and didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable while she changed her son's nappies and he suddenly had a new respect for mothers everywhere.

When he turned back to Frodo, he carefully grasped the ankles as his cousins had instructed, and lifted them gently so he could wipe what remained with an old cloth. He immediately disposed of that as well and was just starting to feel the worst was over when a stream of warm, foul-smelling yellow liquid hit him right in the face.

"Mmghahhh!" Bilbo moaned. He normally would have screamed, but he was terrified to open his mouth lest he accidentally drink it, a thought that made him feel sick. He raced to his washroom, grabbed two towels, and scrubbed his face as hard as he could before changing his shirt.

"Frodo! What did you need to go and do a thing like that for?" he complained. Frodo kicked his legs and giggled.

Bilbo glared at him. "I'm glad you find my troubles so amusing," he grumbled. "You can just get into your new nappy now like a good lad." He took a clean one off the stack and wrapped Frodo in it, although he had to turn the baby over several times before he could figure out where to pin it. "This is more complicated than it looks," he murmured.

Frodo began to get restless. He waved his arms and rolled from side to side- thankfully the changing table had rails on the side to keep him from falling off. "Bibbo, I want passie," he said.

Bilbo clapped his hands. "Ah yes! Where did that thing go?" He checked the crib and the floor, but eventually found it in the playpen. "Here you are," he said, popping it into Frodo's mouth. He noticed the  _faunt_ was sucking hard and seemed to be biting into it.

"I'll bet you're hungry," Bilbo said. "You haven't had anything to eat since this morning." He lifted Frodo off the changing table without bothering to put his trousers back on and set him in the playpen. For good measure, he grabbed a few toys and stuffed animals from the crib and Frodo's bag and dropped them in with him. Hopefully those would keep him occupied for a while.

"Now let's see here," he said, taking stock of his pantry. Primula had said that Frodo's teeth were still new and that he should only have soft foods that weren't easy to choke on. Bilbo rummaged through his stock and after mulling it over for a bit, he finally came up with the ingredients for a vegetable soup.

"Beans, carrots, broccoli, maize, and just a bit of cheese for flavor." He looked back. "You like all those things, don't you Frodo?" Frodo grinned and shook a rattle in answer. "Good." Bilbo set right to work, keeping an eye on the playpen as he chopped vegetables and grated cheese and heated the mix over the stove while sprinkling in salt and pepper. When it was finished, he dished it up in bowls, blew on them so they weren't too hot, and strapped Frodo into his high chair. He slapped his little hands on the tray table in front of him while Bilbo fastened a bib around his neck and gently took the pacifier from his mouth.

Now Bilbo wasn't quite sure what came next. He stupidly hadn't been paying much attention when Primula fed Frodo, but he knew that if you held the spoon to his lips, he'd usually swallow it down without a fuss. Bilbo ate a few swallows of his own soup while he waited for Frodo's to cool, and when it did he spooned some up and held it out to Frodo. To his relief, the lad opened and closed his mouth around the spoon easily and swallowed the soup with a smile.

"You like it? You like your Uncle Bilbo's soup?" Bilbo asked.

"Bibbo soup," Frodo said.

"Yes, that's right." Bilbo gave him some more and was delighted when he slapped his hands on the tray and said, "More!"

Bilbo hurriedly drank up more of his own soup before it could grow cold and wondered if there was a way to make the feeding process go faster. If he kept giving Frodo one slow spoonful at a time, he'd be at the table for hours.  _Maybe if I were to pour the soup into one of his bottles, he could drink it._ The only problem was that he wouldn't be able to eat any of the chunky vegetables.

Carefully Bilbo set the bowl on the tray and put a spoon in Frodo's hand. "Look Frodo, I'm going to show you how to eat like a big lad. Watch." He demonstrated by taking a few swallows of his own soup. "Do you think you can do that?"

Frodo babbled something in gibberish and banged the spoon against the bowl. Bilbo stopped him by grabbing his hand. "No no, like  _this_." He took Frodo's hand and scooped up some soup with it, then brought it to Frodo's mouth. Once again he swallowed it willingly. "Good, very good!" Bilbo said, his hopes rising. "Now try to do it on your own."

Frodo dropped the spoon into the bowl and for a second Bilbo thought he actually might begin to feed himself. Instantly his hopes were dashed as Frodo slapped the tray table again and the bowl toppled over, sending soup all over the tray and ruining Bilbo's shirt for the second time that day. The spoon clattered to the floor and Frodo bounced in the high chair looking mighty pleased with himself.

"Oh bother and confusticate you little-" Bilbo took a deep breath and didn't allow himself to finish that sentence. Frodo was only a baby after all; he didn't know any better. He heaved a heavy sigh and began cleaning up, trying to salvage what he could of the soup before finishing his own bowl, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. Naturally Frodo was happy as a clam, giggling and chattering in a baby language that made sense only to himself.

"You don't have to act so happy about ruining our dinner, you know," Bilbo said sourly. "Now you're just going to be hungry later. In fact, I should probably find something else to give you." He got up and rummaged through the pantry once more until he found a loaf of bread. He tore off a chunk of it and gave it to Frodo, who nibbled it happily. Bilbo cleaned up the kitchen in the meantime, and when Frodo was finished, he had crumbs all over his face and bib, which Bilbo wiped off with a smile.

"And here I thought there couldn't be a messier eater than dwarves," Bilbo said teasingly. He glanced at the clock. "I think it's time for your bath, then we'll get you in bed."

* * *

Bathing Frodo turned out to be much easier than Bilbo thought it would. Primula had been smart to provide him with the baby bathtub; it was just the right size and was built in such a way that even when Frodo splashed the water (which he did, a lot), it wouldn't spill over the edge so long as Bilbo didn't overfill it. Frodo delighted in the soapy bubbles and didn't fight Bilbo's hands as he scrubbed the  _faunt_ from head to toe. The warm water seemed to calm him, and Bilbo felt hopeful that with a change into warm, comfortable pajamas and a good storybook, he might settle down enough to sleep through the night.

Once again, his hopes were dashed. He lifted Frodo out of the tub and toweled him off, then reached for a nappy. Here was where he had trouble, as Frodo seemed to have gotten it into his head that he did not want to wear a nappy.

"No!" he cried, and pushed it down so that it fell around his ankles. "No."

"Yes, Frodo, you must wear a nappy, that is not up for discussion." Bilbo pulled it back up and soon the two were engaged in a sort of tug-of-war with Bilbo pushing up and Frodo pushing down. "Now listen here," he said as he pried Frodo's fingers away. "I'm not going to make you wear pajamas if you don't want to, but I won't risk having you make a mess all over my house. You've made enough messes already."

"No!" Frodo wailed, and his face puckered up. Bilbo quickly handed him one of his favorite toys to distract him and picked up the bathtub so he could dump the water outside. He wasn't about to risk Frodo toppling that over too. But he needn't have worried about that, for as soon as Bilbo opened the door, Frodo didn't bother at all about the bathtub but instead dropped his toy, pushed off his nappy, and raced out the door in nothing but his birthday suit.

"Frodo!" Bilbo yelled, dropping the bathtub so that water spilled all over the grass. He rushed after him, but the lad was surprisingly fast. "Frodo, you come back here!" To his utter embarrassment, neighbors began to peek out of their windows and laughed. Bilbo could only imagine how silly he must look. He put on a burst of speed and before he knew it, he was gaining on his little cousin. He stopped short though, when he realized who Frodo was about to run into.

"Bilbo Baggins!" shrieked a voice Bilbo dreaded more than any other. "What on earth is this about?"

"Nothing, Lobelia," he answered through gritted teeth. He snatched up Frodo and covered as much of his squirming body as he could. "Nothing to see here, go on."

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins wrinkled her nose, which was so high in the air Bilbo thought it was a wonder the lass didn't drown in the rain. " _My_ children would never do such a thing! Have you no shame?"

"Well fortunately for me, your children are just that: yours. Because I would hate to be raising such spoiled brats as those!" Bilbo spat before turning around and marching home. He could hear Lobelia screeching indignities at him, but he couldn't have cared less. He'd had about all he could take for one day.

* * *

Somehow Frodo seemed to understand this, for he grew much quieter when they reached home. Or perhaps he'd just worn himself out running from one end of the neighborhood to the other. At any rate, he no longer fought Bilbo on the nappy and even allowed himself to be dressed in pajamas. He spoke only to ask for his passie, which Bilbo gave to him before making up his bed. He turned down the blankets, fluffed the pillow, and positioned the crib in its new place in the spare room-turned-nursery. When he turned around, Frodo was holding out his arms to be picked up, and he looked so precious in his little baby clothes with his pacifier and huge blue eyes that Bilbo just couldn't stay angry.

"Come here, you little rascal," he said softly, and lifted him into his arms. "Let's get you to sleep." He was thankful he'd thought to grab one of the bottles Primula had prepared for him before she left, and he held it in one hand and Frodo in the other as he settled into the rocking chair. Frodo alternated between sucking on the bottle and the pacifier and looked up at Bilbo expectantly.

"I'll bet you're hoping for a story, aren't you?" he asked. He began rocking them at a gentle pace and in a soft tone, he told as much as he could recall of his adventures, changing some of the details to make them child-friendly. He spoke of his journeys, of friendships and magic, and he was touched at how attentively Frodo was listening. He finished off the bottle and yawned, his tummy full and his mouth wet with stray drops of milk. Bilbo brushed them off and set the bottle aside. Frodo was still fighting to keep his eyes open, so Bilbo let him lay his head against his chest and started singing.

_Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together?_

_The winds in the tree-top, the winds in the heather;_

_The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,_

_And bright are the windows of Night in her tower._

_Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!_

_Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!_

_The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;_

_Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting._

_Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!_

_Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!_

_The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!_

_Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!_

_Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!_

_Fall Moon! Dark be the land!_

_Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!_

_Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!_

Frodo was asleep long before the end, and as Bilbo kissed the top of his curls and placed him in his crib, he thought he just might be getting the hang of parenting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby is taken from a chapter of "The Hobbit" and is the property of Tolkien.


	3. Sick

After the first week, Bilbo was proud to say that not only was he most definitely getting the hang of parenting, but he had at last gained the ability to distinguish between Frodo's cries. There were really only two: the scared cry and the hungry cry. The latter was easily identifiable because it was angry; Frodo's face would become pinched and he would scream more than cry and look almost as though he were glaring at Bilbo.  _Bilbo, you blasted old hobbit, how dare you make me wait this long for my elevenses_ , was what his face seemed to say. The scared cry was subtler, and more accurately considered crying because there were actual tears. Frodo would sometimes get scared at night if he woke up and no one was around, and he would whimper and look around anxiously until Bilbo showed up. Usually all it took was for Bilbo to pick him up and hug him for a few moments, speaking to him in a soothing voice or singing a lullaby, and Frodo would go right back to sleep.

Everything else was easy. Gaffer had been right; Bilbo could smell the need for a nappy change long before Frodo grew uncomfortable enough to fuss about it, and after getting sprayed two more times, Bilbo finally wised up and began putting a clean nappy over the baby's front side as soon as the dirty one came off. He stuck to the routine Primula had written about and Frodo submitted to bathing and changing clothes and went to bed easily. By his eighth day in being a parent, Bilbo thought he had mastered this task.

Until that night.

* * *

Bilbo had just finished bathing Frodo and was lifting him out of the baby bath. For some reason the lad hadn't been as cheerful this time. Usually when Bilbo bathed him, Frodo took great pleasure in splashing the water and popping bubbles, but tonight he had sat listlessly, barely moving as Bilbo worked the soap through his hair. When Bilbo tried to get playful and splash him, he had shrieked, "No!"

"Well, someone is cranky tonight," Bilbo said, toweling Frodo off. "What's the matter?" He didn't expect an answer of course, but he was surprised when Frodo shut his eyes tight and began to whimper. This looked like the scared cry, but wasn't quite the same.  _Why would he be scared? I'm right here, haven't left him for hours._ He clung to Bilbo and let out a little cry.

Bilbo's heart sank as he heard an unpleasant sound, followed by an even more unpleasant smell. "Oh Frodo, you couldn't have waited just two more minutes for your uncle to get you into a nappy?" He sighed. Well, it couldn't be helped. He'd just have to clean the floor after putting Frodo to bed.

"Come here, stinker," he said, and picked Frodo up, trying to wipe his bottom with one hand. Frodo made a noise that sounded like a moan and the next thing Bilbo knew, there was a bigger mess on the floor. "Good gracious, I better hurry." He rushed into the nursery and snatched a nappy from the pile on the changing table. He didn't even have time to pin it closed before it was soiled too, and Frodo was crying even louder now than he had on his first day with Bilbo.

Wringing his hands and biting his lip, Bilbo quickly switched out the nappy and grabbed Frodo into his arms. This time he didn't bother dressing the baby any further; he'd probably just need to be changed again in a few minutes and it was a warm night anyway. Bilbo sat down in the rocking chair and tried rocking him, and Frodo responded by screeching like a banshee.

"Oh, what  _is_  it, Frodo?" Bilbo cried in frustration. "I don't know what you want!" He wondered if he ought to just put Frodo to bed and hope he cried himself to sleep. He couldn't rightly bother the Gamgees at this time of night. He stood up and started to lower Frodo into the crib.  _Maybe he's just tired._ It was the only explanation he could think of.

But Frodo was still clinging to him. He started sobbing and buried his face into Bilbo's shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked. In answer to his question, Frodo opened his mouth wide and promptly threw up all over him. When he was finished, he wailed louder than Bilbo had ever heard him, and the hobbit's heart began to pound. The smell began to worsen and Bilbo craned his neck to see behind his cousin. He felt the color drain from his face as he saw what was trailing down Frodo's leg.

"Oh my stars," he breathed, and raced out of the room with Frodo, letting him sob into his shoulder while he hurriedly locked the doors and tried not to panic. "Let's get you to the healer."

* * *

Bilbo was trembling as he sat by Frodo's beside, watching him sleep. Only this time it wasn't a peaceful sleep like before; it was troubled and fitful, induced by a pain draught rather than fatigue.

"Can you tell me everything the lad ate today, starting from this morning?"

Bilbo knew the healer meant well, but as he sat there under her stern gaze, he couldn't help feeling like he was being interrogated for wrongdoing. "Some bread and eggs for breakfast and second breakfast, pasta with cheese for elevenses, and chicken with potatoes for supper."

"That's all?"

He thought hard. "Oh, and I also let him have a plum as a snack."

"How many times would you say you changed his nappy today?"

Bilbo took a deep breath. "Let me think." Frodo got changed every morning when he woke up, plus Bilbo had changed him just before elevenses and after supper. And twice after elevenses and before supper, at least. "Around five or six times, maybe more," Bilbo said. "I remember thinking it was more than usual, but I figured that was because of the plum." He shifted uncomfortably. "Plums have that effect on me too sometimes."

"How big was the plum?"

"Not very. He didn't even eat the whole thing. Maybe half of a small one."

"Then I'm thinking that wasn't it." She thought for a few minutes, then looked at him strangely. "You say you fed him pasta? Pasta with  _cheese?"_

"Yes. But it was very fresh, I'd made it myself. I would never feed him spoiled cheese."

She shook her head. "It's not so much the quality I'm worried about as the quantity. How much did you give him?"

Bilbo cringed. "A lot." Frodo had loved his pasta with cheese. As soon as he'd tasted it, he had clapped his hands and smiled the most adorable smile Bilbo had ever seen, and he'd been so delighted that the lad liked his cooking that he'd happily shoveled more and more onto his plate, all of which Frodo gobbled right up. "That was definitely his biggest meal of the day, and I  _was_  a bit surprised when he didn't get a bellyache, but he is a hobbit after all. Still I tried to be skimpy with the chicken and potatoes at dinner to make up for it."

The healer nodded. "I see now." She sat down. "Well Mr. Bilbo, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but with a hobbit-child his age, you have to be real careful with cheese and sometimes with pasta too. A little bit is fine, but a lot can be terrible for their digestion. Between serving them both together and the plum, it's no wonder what happened. I imagine that by the time he started crying, his tummy was hurting pretty bad."

"I'm terribly sorry," Bilbo said, although she was hardly the one who needed an apology. "I would never have made him ill for the world."

"He should be all right in the morning," she assured him. "Lucky it was nothing serious, just a case of too much to eat."

Bilbo breathed out slowly, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. "That's a relief. If I had made him gravely sick, his parents would have never forgiven me. As it is, I hope they don't find out."

"Even if they do, they'll probably be glad to know you did exactly the right thing bringing him here," the healer said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The medicine I gave him will flush everything out. He'll have one sorry-looking nappy in the morning, but no lasting damage. Shouldn't be any more pain or vomiting."

"Thank you," Bilbo said. "Really, I appreciate it so much."

"You're most welcome, Mr. Baggins. And now I'd suggest you clean up and get some rest yourself. You can take Frodo home in the morning."

Bilbo stood up and stretched. She was right; he did look a sight and smelled awful. His shirt and vest had dried vomit all over them and his pants had suffered as well from the leakage that had dripped from Frodo as Bilbo had hurried him to the healer's house. He made good use of the healer's washroom and when he was dressed in the clean nightclothes she had lent him, Bilbo felt like a new hobbit.

He rejoined her at Frodo's bedside and stroked his cousin's curls. He seemed more relaxed now and was breathing softly.

The healer lay on her hand on his arm. "I have a spare bed, but this one is also big enough for both of you, if you like."

Bilbo nodded. "I think I'll stay right here." And he curled up in bed with one arm protectively around his cousin. As he sank into sleep, he thought that sometimes caring for a  _faunt_ could prove a more perilous adventure than any quest.


	4. Gandalf

Frodo was indeed feeling much better the next morning, and for the next several days after that he was quite subdued. Bilbo enjoyed playing hide and seek with him and reading to him, but when he began to tire, the lad could amuse himself with his toys. Some mornings when they both woke up early, Bilbo would set Frodo in his playpen without bothering to change him out of pajamas or comb out his hair and sit at his desk nearby, working on his book. At first Frodo's baby chatter made it hard to concentrate, but he learned to tune it out when he set his mind to it.

It was on one such morning when the sun had just risen that there was a knock an the door. Bilbo froze midsentence and even Frodo looked up from his latest attempt at trying to make his stuffed bear sit on a ball without falling off. Bilbo got up slowly; he was always wary of unexpected knocks on his door. They didn't happen often and it would leave him wondering if more dwarves or some other creatures were about to invade his home again. Or worse, the Sackville-Bagginses.

 _Could it be Primula and Drogo already?_ Bilbo was surprised to find the thought made him sad. Despite all the messes that came with it, he had grown accustomed to and was even starting to like having a baby in the house. He ruffled Frodo's hair and crossed the living room to open the door.

"Gandalf!" he exclaimed. The old wizard held out his arms with twinkling eyes and the two shared a joyful jug. "It's so good to see you! But what on earth are you doing here?"

"I do apologize for not writing first," Gandalf said, straightening up. "But I wasn't aware I would be traveling to the Shire until just a few days ago. My advisor, Saruman, has requested that we hold a counsel in a place not too far from here. I persuaded him to allow me to spend a few days with you before."

"Wonderful! Come in, please," Bilbo said, moving aside. Gandalf quickly moved to the center of the house where the ceiling was highest. "How have you been? What's the latest news of the dwarves? The elves? How are the folks of Laketown getting along?"

Gandalf laughed. "How I've missed hobbits!" It was then he noticed Frodo sitting in his playpen and staring up at Gandalf with huge eyes. He had never seen anyone so tall, and his mouth opened wide enough for his pacifier to fall out.

"Why Bilbo, I had no idea you had children!" he said, smiling down at Frodo.

"Oh, he's not mine," Bilbo said as he rushed around the kitchen making tea. "My cousins had to leave on an urgent errand, and I told them I would watch their son for them while they're gone. His name is Frodo." He explained the arrangement as he poured cups for both of them and set them on the table, then picked Frodo up.

"Frodo, this is my dear friend, Gandalf. Can you say, 'hullo, Gandalf'?"

"No."

Bilbo snorted. "Well don't push yourself too hard now!" He looked at Gandalf and shrugged. "He just woke up an hour ago, probably still a bit drowsy."

"That's quite all right," Gandalf said. "He has the look of a Baggins, just like you." He ran his hand over Frodo's bedhead and Frodo promptly reached for his beard and pulled on it hard enough to make Gandalf wince.

"No Frodo, stop that." Bilbo put him back. "Sorry, I imagine it's the first time he's ever seen a Big Person. Or a beard, for that matter."

"How old is he?" Gandalf asked, regarding the lad thoughtfully. He didn't think he'd ever seen such big, bright blue eyes.

"Eighteen months. Well, almost nineteen," Bilbo said. He sat down with his tea and sighed. "And here I am at seventy-one, just trying to keep up!"

Gandalf narrowed his eyes. "Are you really seventy-one years old?" he asked. Bilbo didn't look it, not at all. In fact, he didn't look a day older than the last time Gandalf had seen him, over a decade ago.

"Indeed I am," Bilbo said proudly, and Gandalf could see in his eyes that he wasn't lying. He had a strange feeling that there was a reason for Bilbo's youthful appearance, but his friend was eager to learn what news he had to tell, so he didn't push it. The two of them enjoyed tea as Gandalf told him all that he had been doing since their last meeting.

At one point Frodo stood up in his playpen and called, "Bibbo!"

"Yes, lad?" Bilbo asked.

"I'm hungry," Frodo said.

Bilbo glanced at the clock. "Well, I should think you would be. It's already lunchtime and I didn't even realize it." He got up and headed for the kitchen. "Just a minute Frodo, I'll fix you something."

Frodo either didn't understand what Bilbo had said or didn't hear it, because he jumped up and grabbed at the edges of the playpen, attempting to climb over it. Rather than risk him toppling it over and possibly hurting himself, Gandalf quickly stood up and lifted him out and into his arms.

"Hello there," he said softly. He held Frodo to him and marveled at how little he weighed and the softness of his baby skin, but grew alarmed when he noticed tears begin to prick the little  _faunt's_ eyes. "What's the matter?" Gandalf asked gently. Frodo's only answer was to whimper and look around wildly before bursting into tears.

Bilbo rushed out of the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Gandalf admitted. "Maybe he's hungry." He handed Frodo back to his uncle and to their shock, he immediately stopped crying. Bilbo pat his back and set him down and Frodo started up his happy baby babbling like everything was right with the world.

"Huh. That's strange," Bilbo said. But he shrugged and returned to the kitchen. "I shouldn't be much longer. Keep an eye on him for me, will you?"

Gandalf kept two eyes on Frodo, and did so most curiously. What had set him off just now? It could be that Frodo was nervous about Bilbo leaving him, but then Bilbo had left him again just now and Frodo didn't seem to mind. And besides, his uncle wasn't even that far away; his humming could be heard clearly from only a few feet. At the moment, however, Frodo seemed oblivious to that as he wandered about the house, exploring with his fingertips and climbing on furniture.

Gandalf was so lost in thought he almost missed Bilbo shout, "He's headed for the china! Quick, stop him." Gandalf snapped to attention and hurried over to pick up the little lad just as he was reaching a hand up to grab one of Bilbo's good china plates from the cabinet, which would have surely broken had he touched it. The china was spared, but the very minute Gandalf had Frodo in his arms, he began crying again. Once again Bilbo rushed to take him from Gandalf, and once again Frodo became calm as soon as he was in Bilbo's arms.

"I don't believe he likes me very much," Gandalf said, trying not to sound as hurt as he felt.

Bilbo shook his head. "I just can't figure it. He's never been afraid of strangers before. But then, you are the tallest stranger he's ever seen." He shrugged. "Give him time, I suppose. He'll get used to you. In the meantime, his lunch is almost ready. Would you like something, Gandalf?"

"Oh I'm fine, thank you," Gandalf said, and reclaimed his place at the table. Bilbo brought out a plate and then a cup, still holding Frodo with one arm.

"I'm going to need two hands to carry the pot of stew. Would you hold him for a minute?" Before Gandalf could answer, Bilbo had already deposited Frodo onto his lap. Gandalf tensed, waiting for the inevitable torrent of tears, but to his surprise it didn't come. Frodo sat calmly and looked up at him with dry eyes. Gandalf smiled and put an arm around his waist so he wouldn't fall. Frodo took his beard in his fingers and began playing with it, causing Gandalf to chuckle at the ticklish sensation. He ran his fingers through the little dark curls, liking the  _faunt_ more and more.

Bilbo smiled widely when he reemerged from the kitchen. "Well, isn't that the oddest thing!" He shook his head. "I suppose I shouldn't question it." He dished up the stew into a bowl and poured a glass of milk for Frodo. "Now I just need to grab my own lunch and then I'll get Frodo into his high chair."

"You go ahead and eat, Bilbo, I'll do it," Gandalf offered, wanting to feel useful. He gently pried Frodo's fingers from his beard and gathered him in his arms before standing up. Instantly Frodo wailed loud enough for both friends to jump.

"Oh Frodo, would you make up your mind?" Bilbo said crossly. "If this is one of your games, we're not amused."

Gandalf regarded Frodo with a thoughtful look on his face. He carefully sat down, and Frodo became quiet. Then he stood up again, and Frodo's face began to crumple. Gandalf laughed merrily as he moved to the high chair and buckled Frodo into it, patting the little one on the head.

"What's so funny?" Bilbo asked as he sat down to eat his stew.

Gandalf shook his head. "But of course, I don't know why I didn't think of it before! It's not  _me_  Frodo fears, it's the height!"

Bilbo was puzzled, then he snapped his fingers. "Ah! That would explain why he was all right on your lap, but not in your arms."

"Exactly," Gandalf nodded, eyes twinkling. "He was just nervous being so high up- a common fear among hobbits, as you surely know- but was unable to tell me." He tousled Frodo's hair. "Good to know it isn't me he fears."

Bilbo smiled as he began to feed Frodo, feeling the warmth in his chest that a hobbit could only have by enjoying both friends and family together.


	5. Trouble

If Primula and Drogo thought Bilbo was good with children, they should have seen Gandalf. Over the next few hours, Bilbo lost count of how many times the wizard was able to make Frodo laugh. He made funny faces, pretended to engage in swordfights with him, and much to both of their delights, he created some fireworks. Small sparks of every color in the rainbow erupted right inside the house, and Frodo couldn't get enough. He jumped up and ran all about trying to catch the bursts of light, and soon wore himself out so much that he fell asleep right in his playpen, an opportunity which Bilbo and Gandalf took full advantage of as they sat down and relished the quiet.

When Frodo woke up from his nap a while later and started whining for attention, Bilbo put him on the floor in front of them and set out some blocks for him to play with. For a while this seemed to work; Frodo would build something with the blocks, knock it over, and then start again as Bilbo and Gandalf talked of all matter of things.

But then Gandalf asked, "My friend, may I trouble you for a pipe?"

"Of course!" Bilbo said, and happily fetched two pipes and a generous share of Old Toby. He hadn't had much chance to smoke since taking Frodo in. He had just lit up when he felt a tug on his wrist. Frodo was jumping up and down, trying to grab the pipe out of his hand. "No," Bilbo said, holding his pipe high.

"Mine!" Frodo yelled, jumping higher. "Mine! Mine!"

Bilbo shook his head. "No Frodo, I'm sorry. These are not for little ones." He took a drag on his pipe, thinking that was the end of it. Usually one "no" was sufficient for Frodo.

But apparently that was not going to be the case this time, because Frodo grabbed his knees and tried to scramble onto his lap. "Oh bother," Bilbo grumbled. "Hold my pipe for a second," he said, handing it to Gandalf. "No!" he shouted, and moved Frodo away from his knees. Frodo glared at him and stamped his feet.

"I wan' some!" he yelled.

"Not till you're older," Bilbo said as he sat down again and took his pipe back from Gandalf. Frodo stood in front of the wizard's legs and tried to reach for Gandalf's pipe while he was distracted, but he caught the lad just in time.

"I am sorry Frodo, but your uncle clearly said no," Gandalf said, shrugging. He too held his pipe high as Frodo grabbed for it, tugging at his robes and shrieking, "Mine, mine!"

"Now that is enough!" Bilbo said. He stood up and pried Frodo's fingers away. "It's bad enough you try to take something away from me, but you do not try to take something away from a guest. I think you need a timeout."

"No!" Frodo screamed. His face turned red and puckered as he struggled out of Bilbo's arms. "I wan' some!"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, you need a timeout." He turned to Gandalf. "I apologize, he's not usually like this." The wizard nodded and Bilbo grabbed his own pipe. "I'm going to put this away and then I'll stick him in his crib where he won't bother us. Try not to let him get yours." But Bilbo had only walked a few feet when a block connected with the back of his head.

For the next minute, the only sound was the block hitting the floor. Bilbo put a hand on the back of his head and felt a bump beginning to rise. Gandalf raised his eyebrows, wondering what his friend would do. Bilbo turned around very slowly, pure shock in every line of his face. Frodo stood there glaring at his uncle and not looking the least bit sorry.

The bump on Bilbo's head began to throb and the hobbit felt his shock turn to rage as he marched over to Frodo, snatched him up, slung him over his shoulder, and took the screaming faunt straight to the nursery. Before he really had time to think about it, Bilbo slung him back, bent him over, and whacked his backside as hard as he could, causing Frodo to screech at an even higher pitch.

"You can just stay here until I decide I'm ready to speak to you again," Bilbo said angrily as he grabbed Frodo and dropped him in the crib, raising the bars as high as they would go. Frodo reached his hand through the bars and howled, but Bilbo ignored him as he rejoined Gandalf.

"Let's go outside so we won't have to hear that racket," he said.

Gandalf followed him and sat down with him in the front yard, but asked, "Are you sure it's wise to leave him alone?"

Bilbo shook his head. "He can't get out of his crib. I've seen him try. He'll sit there and think about what he's done, and if we're lucky, cry himself out so he falls asleep." He didn't say anything more but sat there, seething in rage.

Nasty ungrateful little thing, he thought sourly. I told him no clear as day and here I've got company and he just insists on- he broke out of his thoughts when he noticed Gandalf laughing next to him. He had started out chuckling, but upon seeing Bilbo's puzzled expression, his shoulders shook as he burst into a full bout of laughter that grew more and more pronounced, eventually wiping tears from his eyes.

"What on earth do you find so amusing?" Bilbo asked.

"My dear Bilbo, if you could only see the look on your face," Gandalf said. He smiled merrily and put an arm around his friend. "Why, you're pouting every bit as much as that little faunt! The resemblance is most uncanny," he said before laughing again.

"I have every right to be angry!" Bilbo said indignantly. "He hit me! He gave me a bump on the back of my head, and I'll have you know it still hurts." He crossed his arms and scowled.

Gandalf laughed again but gently massaged the bump. "I'm guessing this is the first time something like this has happened?"

"Well, yes. He's never done this before," Bilbo admitted. "I suppose that's why I'm so shocked."

"It appears hobbits of all ages desire pipeweed," Gandalf said. He looked back at the door. Frodo's cries had ceased. "But you handled it well, I should think."

Bilbo sighed, letting the tension fall from his shoulders. "I shouldn't have hit him," he said. "I'm not his father. It wasn't my place."

Gandalf gave him a reassuring smile. "You did what you thought to be right. And that, my friend, is all anyone can ask."


	6. Ring Bearers

The next morning Bilbo woke up to the sound of high-pitched giggling. He smiled and roused himself out of bed to see Frodo jumping up and down, laughing and trying to grab Gandalf's staff, which was changing color and had small lights spouting out of the top. Not quite fireworks, but beautiful lights all the same. Both were smiling in a way that warmed Bilbo's heart as he set about getting breakfast.

After Frodo had eaten, they let him walk about with his stuffed bunny and bear- apparently his latest game was to show this animals everything in the house- while they reminisced about their dwarven friends.

"The last I heard from Balin, he was leading an expedition into Moria," Gandalf said, and Bilbo did not like the look on his face or the sound of his tone when he said it.

"What does he hope to do there?" Bilbo asked cautiously.

Gandalf shook his head. "Find some gold, I suppose. I advised him against it, but you know how dwarves are." Bilbo nodded. He certainly did.

"What were you advising them against, exactly?"

Gandalf looked at him intently. "Let's just say they are consequences for delving too deeply into the dark corners of the world."

Bilbo felt uncomfortable under his stare. He pondered what he could say to that, and it was a habit of his that whenever he felt uncomfortable or was thinking hard about something, his hands automatically craved his old ring. For some reason he found it gave him confidence. Without even thinking about it, his hands dove into his pockets and Bilbo stiffened when he discovered they were empty.

 _I was sure I put it in there this morning. Could I have left it on the mantle?_ He got up to check, but found it bare. He glanced around nervously.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "You looking for something, Bilbo?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Bilbo said quickly. "I just, er, did you happen to see where my ring went?"

Gandalf crossed his arms. It was a very curious thing that Bilbo seemed to have a need to hold onto his ring all the time. "Why, exactly? Do you need it for something?"

"Oh, no reason. I just like to hold it, you know? Just for old time's-" He froze in horror.

Bilbo and Gandalf had been so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed what Frodo was doing. Now as they turned around, they saw him reach up to a shelf that was just low enough for him to access, reaching toward something small and shiny.

His fingers closed around the ring, and although Bilbo shot up from his chair like a rocket, he wasn't fast enough to stop Frodo from putting the ring right into his mouth.

"No!" he screamed. He grabbed Frodo's shoulder with one hand and stuck the other under Frodo's chin. "Spit it out! Spit it out  _now_!"

Frodo didn't move. Bilbo pushed his fingers between his lips and Frodo, seeing his uncle meant business, allowed him to remove the ring from where it sat on his tongue.

"You miserable  _faunt_ , now you've gone and covered it in spittle," Bilbo said, drying the ring on his shirt. It gleamed in the light and was shiny enough to hold Frodo's attention. He stretched out his little hand to touch the ring.

Bilbo angrily slapped his hand away. "No! It's mine."

"I wan' it!" Frodo whined. He just wanted to hold it, to know what it felt like in his fingers. But Bilbo wasn't having it. He held the ring high and Frodo jumped up and down, getting fussier.

"Bibbo, I wan' it," Frodo said loudly, his voice getting shrill.

"Well you can't have it. It's  _mine_!" The word came out like a growl, and Bilbo accompanied it by shoving Frodo in the chest hard enough to knock him over, sending him backwards so his head hit the floor with a thud so loud it made Gandalf wince. The wizard got to his feet and hurried over, shocked to the core.

Frodo screamed. Long and loud, he screamed until his face was bright red and he rolled around on the floor, groaning in pain. Bilbo took no notice. He was too busy inspecting his ring, checking to see if the baby had damaged it somehow.

"That's the last time I put my ring in a place that low," Bilbo muttered. "From now on it stays with me or locked up safely."

There were many things Gandalf could think of to say to that, namely having to do with why Bilbo was completely ignoring Frodo's cries of pain, but he settled for saying, "Bilbo Baggins, don't you think that was a bit unreasonable?"

"Well if I'm unreasonable it's only because that  _brat_  keeps taking my things!" Bilbo yelled. His face was so contorted that Gandalf hardly recognized it, and he forced himself to keep a calm tone.

"Frodo doesn't know what the ring is, Bilbo. You must allow for that. He thinks it's a toy or something to eat-"

"He's got plenty of toys and plenty of food!" Bilbo retorted. "Really, it's unbelievable how greedy he is, always wanting what he knows he's not allowed to have." By this point he was almost having to shout to be heard over Frodo's crying, and he rolled his eyes.

"Shut him up, will you? I'm going to put this where he can't reach it." Bilbo stormed off and Gandalf set his staff aside so he could hold Frodo with both hands. He gently picked him up and sat down quickly so he wouldn't be afraid of the height. He started rocking slowly.

"Shh, there there, it's all right," Gandalf murmured, holding him against his shoulder. "Your uncle didn't mean to hurt you." He wasn't entirely sure about that, but he decided to give Bilbo the benefit of the doubt for now. Frodo sobbed into his cloak and Gandalf ran his fingers through his curls to make sure there was no bump or bruise. From what he could tell, Frodo seemed all right, but scared.

Bilbo stalked back into the living room with his fists in his pockets. "I'd like to see him try to get it now, the thief!"

"Thief?" Gandalf asked incredulously. "You really believe that your cousin, a  _baby_ , wanted to steal from you?" When Bilbo didn't answer, Gandalf gave him a hard glare. "It seems you are not the same hobbit I remember. The Baggins I knew would never have reacted so harshly."

Bilbo blew out his cheeks.  _Easy for Gandalf to say,_ he thought. Gandalf had never been in the role of a full-time parent. He sighed and held out his arms. "Give him to me. I'll put him in his crib with a bottle, and then he'll calm down."

Gandalf shifted to allow Bilbo access, but Frodo clung to him tightly. The look in his eyes was so heartbreaking that Gandalf almost felt like crying himself.

"Come on, Frodo," Bilbo said, putting his hands on his waist.

"No," Frodo whimpered. He buried his face in Gandalf's shoulder and wouldn't look at Bilbo.

"What's the matter with you?" Bilbo asked, furrowing his brow. He tried to lift Frodo up, but his fingers were locked around Gandalf's cloak. "Frodo?"

"He's afraid of you, Bilbo," Gandalf said softly. "You scared him."

"Scared him?" Bilbo blinked. He leaned in closer and Frodo pushed his face farther into Gandalf's shoulder. "Frodo, stop this now. You're not  _really_ afraid of Uncle Bilbo. Right?"

Frodo's only answer was to scoot away from Bilbo's hand. He turned his face just a little and now Bilbo saw the tear tracks on his cheeks and his shiny eyes. He had the same look on his face now that he wore when they passed the oxen out in the fields, the ones he was afraid to get too close to lest they step on him or gobble him up in their enormous jaws.

Bilbo had never in his life felt so ashamed.

"Oh Frodo," he moaned, holding out his arms. "I'm so sorry, my lad." Frodo hesitated, but when Bilbo began to sniffle, Frodo crawled across Gandalf's lap and into Bilbo's arms. His uncle took him and rocked him slowly, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm so, so sorry. I promise that will never happen again. Your uncle was a fool, but I  _do_  love you." The hobbits hugged each other hard and Gandalf smiled, feeling relief wash over him like a wave.

He needn't have worried. Bilbo was the same hobbit after all.


	7. Saruman

The next few days were some of the fondest in Gandalf's memory; by now Frodo had wormed his way into his heart as easily as Bilbo had. Bilbo was grateful for the adult conversation and an extra pair of hands for when Frodo got fussy or made messes, and the three of them lived peacefully together until the morning came when Gandalf looked out the window and saw the white wizard passing through the fields.

"My head of my order has arrived in the Shire," Gandalf said when they sat down to breakfast. "Which means the time has come for me to depart."

"So soon?" Bilbo asked while trying to feed Frodo.

"Yes, I feel I've already overstayed my welcome," Gandalf said.

"Nonsense!" Bilbo protested, but nonetheless he agreed to walk down to the pasture with Gandalf to meet Saruman and that they would part ways from there. When they finished breakfast, the three of them started down the hill. Saruman was waiting for them near a herd of oxen, who were grazing on some grass while their masters worked nearby. Bilbo set Frodo down, grateful to give his arms a break, and greeted the old wizard.

"To meet a wizard even greater than Gandalf is a high honor indeed," Bilbo said, giving a little bow.

Saruman barely acknowledged the greeting. "Your little one does not seem to think so." Frodo had one hand on Bilbo's leg and looked nervous.

Bilbo laughed. "Oh it's not you he's afraid of, it's the oxen." He pointed to the beasts behind the wizards. "Every time we pass them, he clings to me. I think he's terrified they're going to eat him for supper."

"I suppose that's not surprising," Gandalf said. A full-grown hobbit was less than half the size of an ox. He could only imagine how they must look to one as small as Frodo. He turned to his companion and frowned.

Saruman was staring at the oxen and Frodo with a grin that Gandalf found a bit disconcerting. Suddenly he snatched him up under the arms and held him inches from the ox's face. Immediately the creature and its companion turned their faces to Frodo and the poor lad screamed.

"No! No no no!" Frodo screeched, kicking his feet as the oxen drew even closer. Gandalf tried to take him from Saruman, but the wizard held him high. Frodo whimpered and tears streamed down his face as one ox stretched its neck up to try and sniff his feet.

"Stop it, you're scaring him!" Bilbo yelled, horrified. He jumped up and tried to take Frodo, but of course he wasn't tall enough.

Saruman shrugged. "What's the matter? They aren't hurting him. They're merely curious." He grinned at Gandalf. "I just thought I'd help this one overcome his fear." One of the oxen opened its mouth in a yawn and Saruman pushed Frodo toward its teeth, and the little  _faunt_ started shaking.

"Put him down now!" Bilbo demanded. Gandalf had never seen his eyes so full of rage. "If this is your idea of a joke-"

"Saruman, please," Gandalf said. He quickly grabbed Frodo around the waist and took him from Saruman. The old wizard shot him a glare, but he pretended to ignore it as he handed Frodo to Bilbo, who held him tightly and hurried off. The two wizards stood there a moment as the oxen moved along, seeing that they were not getting any food, and Saruman retrieved his staff.

"I beg you tell me why you felt the need to do such a thing," Gandalf said. "I'm surprised at you, Saruman. In all our years of counsel, I've never known you to treat a child that way."

Saruman narrowed his eyes. "I was teaching him to face his fears. Those oxen had no interest in eating him and you know it."

"Yes, but considering his size it's not surprising that-"

"Isn't it you who's always saying that halflings are more valiant than they appear?" Saruman asked. "So far I've not seen that to be the case. Given how you seem so fond of them, I thought perhaps the little one would surprise me."

"But he's only a baby," Gandalf said, puzzled. "Grown men are not always courageous. How can you expect such from an infant?" Saruman shrugged his question off and Gandalf felt a little shiver despite the warm day. How could  _anyone_ , let alone a great and wise wizard, be so void of pity and understanding?

Saruman pointed his staff to the east. "You and I must be on our way now. We have much to discuss."

"Yes, I shall join you momentarily. But I should like to say goodbye to Bilbo first." When Saruman raised his eyebrows, Gandalf said, "He is a dear friend of mine, after all."

Saruman nodded. "Be swift."

Gandalf hurried back up the hill to Bilbo's house and quickly rapped the door with his staff. At first he was afraid Bilbo might not wish to speak to him, but his fears were alleviated when the door swung open and the hobbit smiled up at him, holding Frodo in one arm.

"I sincerely apologize for my advisor's behavior," Gandalf said, shaking his head sadly. "I don't know what came over him."

Bilbo sighed. "Can't be helped, I suppose. I appreciate you stopping him, at any rate." When Gandalf didn't move to come inside, Bilbo asked, "Are you leaving us now?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I must," Gandalf said, giving Frodo a pat on the head and kneeling with his arms open. "Though I'm going to miss you both."

Bilbo set Frodo down and entered Gandalf's embrace. "Do come back and visit again soon, won't you?"

"Of course, my friend," Gandalf said, and stood up. "Take care, both of you."

"We will." Bilbo picked Frodo up again. "Can you say goodbye to Gandalf?"

"Bye-bye Gaddof," Frodo said, and the old wizard was touched at how sad the little hobbit's voice sounded to see him go. He waved a tiny hand and Gandalf waved back as he straightened his hat and turned to leave.

Saruman was waiting for him rather impatiently at the bottom of the hill, and as they walked Gandalf noticed the white wizard was taking no pains to avoid trampling the flowerbeds the hobbit gardeners had planted. At one point a child who Gandalf recognized from one of the parties came running and begging for fireworks, and Saruman glared at her and held out his staff menacingly until she ran away.

"Annoying little creatures, aren't they?" Saruman muttered. Gandalf said nothing, but found himself wishing he were still inside a hobbit-hole in Bag End instead of wondering whether Saruman was still the kind and gentle wizard he so fondly remembered.


	8. Gone

Frodo bounced himself up and down on Bilbo's lap as he set the book aside. "More, more," he cried gleefully. "More Bibbo book!"

"I'm sorry Frodo, there is no more," Bilbo said. "That's all I've managed to get down so far. But I'm glad to see that someone likes it," he said, tickling Frodo's nose. His cousin giggled adorably and Bilbo planted a kiss on his forehead before setting him down and standing up to stretch his limbs. He barely got a second to do so before Frodo was clinging to his trousers.

"Play with me, Bibbo! Play," he begged.

Bilbo groaned. "You rascal, I've spent hours playing with you." He had passed the morning doing everything Frodo liked to do, from rolling a ball on the floor to playing pony (though it was beginning to make him throw out his back) to hide and seek and now reading to him. He was getting terribly bored and desperate for some quiet time to think.

"You don't need my boring old self," he said as he put Frodo in the playpen. "Look, you have all these toys. Go on, play with those." He turned to go outside for a smoke, but a whimper from behind made him stop.

"Bibbo, I wanna play with you," Frodo whined. His eyes were sad and Bilbo knew with a sinking heart that if he didn't stay, the lad would start crying. He sighed.  _If I have to read him one more blasted story or roll one more blasted ball…_ he looked around for other possibilities and his eyes landed on the pram in the corner. He suddenly realized he hadn't used it yet.

"I have a better idea," Bilbo said with a smile. "Why don't we take a walk outside?"

* * *

Even though he had grumbled about finding a place for it, Bilbo was grateful for the pram. Frodo could get heavy after a while, and Bilbo liked the way the wheels glided gracefully over the grass. He had never pushed a pram before and was surprised at how easily it steered.  _Much easier than steering ponies, that's for sure._ Frodo sucked on his pacifier looking content as could be, and when the sun began to rise high in the sky, Bilbo envied him the shade that the pram provided.

He wound it through the streets of Hobbiton, and more than a few people oohed and ahhed over Frodo and congratulated Bilbo on having such a cute cousin. He smiled proudly and allowed them to pat Frodo on the head and fawn over his baby gibberish. But once they got into the countryside, Frodo stopped babbling and became quiet. At one point he became so quiet that Bilbo stopped pushing the pram to check on him, and felt a tug at his heart when he saw that his little friend had fallen asleep, probably worn out from being fussed over all morning.

"I suppose I should take you home then," Bilbo said, and wheeled the pram back around. He took the longer way home to avoid the noise of the townspeople and was careful to avoid ruts and potholes until he arrived back at the front door of Bag End.

Bilbo had been wondering how it would be possible to transfer Frodo from his pram to his crib without waking him, but it was surprisingly easy. The little  _faunt_ slept like the dead, never even stirring when Bilbo lifted him up or laid him down and covered him. He carefully took the pacifier out of his mouth, fearing Frodo might choke on it if he opened his mouth wide enough, and still the baby didn't notice. The sight of him fast asleep with his chest rising and falling was so sweet it nearly brought a tear to the old hobbit's eye. He rested his arms on the bars of the crib and stood there awhile.

It was amazing to think his little cousin had no idea that such things like war or death or greed or horrid creatures like Gollum and Smaug even existed. Or if he did, he probably thought they were confined to the tales he fell asleep to. Innocent as could be, that's what he was. Completely unaware of the darkness in the world.

"May you always stay that way, my lad," Bilbo whispered, and left him in peace.

* * *

That experience was so pleasant that Bilbo began to make Frodo's walks in the pram a part of their routine. Every morning after Frodo woke up and had breakfast, Bilbo dressed him, buckled him in, and started down the road for a few hours. The pram held a pocket in the back that was just the right size for a book, which Bilbo would read as soon as he'd come to a shady spot since Frodo would often fall asleep. He went a different route each day of the week and saved the best for last. At the end of the week, he wheeled Frodo to his favorite oak tree near the river, a gigantic one so old that it was rumored to have been in the Shire even longer than hobbits.

Just as he expected, Frodo was asleep by the time he reached the tree. "Putting you down for your naptime would have been so much easier if I'd only thought to do this sooner," Bilbo said. "Why on earth your mother and father didn't tell me this little secret I'll never know." He parked the pram under the tree and checked to make sure Frodo was strapped in securely. When he was satisfied the little  _faunt_ wasn't going anywhere, Bilbo settled into the grass with his book.

He didn't read very far before his eyes began to close. The spring day was a gorgeous one, warm but not hot, and with just the right amount of breeze. As beautiful as the mountains had been, there were some days when the Shire was so vibrantly colorful and soothing that no place in the world could compete with it. The grass swayed underneath him and the branches rustled above as his fingers grew weaker and dropped the book. Bilbo's eyes flicked to the pram, but Frodo was still sound asleep, so he let himself drift off deeper and deeper until he was no longer conscious.

* * *

Bilbo woke up with the same slow grogginess that had dragged him down to sleep. He had to blink and rub his eyes a few times before he could see clearly, and yawned several times in a row. "Good gracious, it's been a time since I slept so deep." He wondered how much time had gone by and felt a little jolt of surprise when he noticed the sky was beginning to turn pink. He turned to the pram and noticed it had somehow shifted slightly so that it was facing away from him.

"You must be as hungry for dinner as I am," he said as he turned the pram. "I'm amazed you didn't-" But Bilbo never finished his sentence, because his heart stuck in his throat and he began to feel faint.

Frodo was gone.


	9. Lost and Found

_Don't panic,_ was the first thing Bilbo told himself, although every nerve fiber in his body was screaming at him to do that very thing.  _Don't panic, he's probably just walked off a little ways from here._ He didn't know how Frodo had managed to get out of the pram without waking him- or how he'd managed to get out of the pram at all, for that matter; he'd been buckled in tightly and he doubted an eighteen-month-old could work the release on the straps. But then again, Bilbo had been sleeping awful deeply and Frodo could be quite a force to be reckoned with when he set his mind to doing something.

"Frodo?" he called, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. "Frodo!" He strained his ears, hoping to hear a tiny voice yell, "Bibbo!" But he could only hear squirrels and birds.

"Frodo, where are you?" Bilbo grabbed the pram and moved it away from the tree. He searched the area where it had been and walked all the way around the tree. He stood on tiptoe and craned his neck to scan the horizon on all sides. There was no sign of Frodo anywhere. Bilbo turned around and around, looking this way and that, feeling his heart speed up with every second. His gaze finally landed on the river.

_Oh no. Please no._

Bilbo rushed to the side of the river, wading in as far as he dared, and walked several hundred yards in each direction, calling Frodo's name. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened when he still saw no trace of his cousin.  _Surely if he were drowning, he would have been splashing or screaming, and I would have heard him, right?_ But maybe he hadn't. Maybe Frodo had been drowning and screaming for his Uncle Bilbo to rescue him and his last moments had been spent wondering why Bilbo was ignoring him and lying there like a log.

"Now you just stop thinking like that!" Bilbo said aloud, giving himself a little slap. "Surely he's fine. Probably just wandered off." He climbed out of the river and ran up the path. Over and over he called Frodo's name, and still there was no answer. Bilbo began to tremble. What if he never saw him again? He was suddenly sorry for every negative thought he'd ever had toward the little  _faunt_. Grumbling about dirty nappies and demanding attention, shoving him when he tried to take the ring…

Suddenly a thought struck him.  _The ring!_ Frodo had wanted it, and maybe now he had gotten it. Maybe he was invisible right now and that was why Bilbo couldn't find him. It was unlikely, of course, that he had managed to reach all the way on top of the mantelpiece, but then again Bilbo had seen him push a chair to the counter and climb on top to reach a piece of cake Bilbo hadn't let him have. He'd also caught Frodo hiding things in his clothing on more than one occasion. Who was to say he hadn't done the same with the ring? Bilbo had half a mind to run to his house right now and check to see if the ring was gone.

First he quickly reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from his forehead- and discovered that Frodo had definitely not taken the ring, as it was safely tucked into Bilbo's pocket.  _Now I remember. I was nervous about leaving it alone in the house, so I took it with me._ He felt utterly ashamed of himself. He'd been so afraid of losing a silly old ring, and hadn't even considered the possibility of losing Frodo.

"What a job I've done being his guardian," Bilbo said as he hurried toward Gaffer's house for help.

* * *

Three hours later the Shire was covered in darkness and Frodo was still missing. Bilbo, Gaffer, Bell, and even little Hamfast had asked everyone in the neighborhood if they had seen him, and when no one had, they spread the word for everybody to be on the lookout. Two hobbits that actually knew how to swim had generously volunteered to search the river, and others had posted themselves at the borders of the Shire to inquire any travelers who passed through if they had seen or heard word of a little hobbit matching Frodo Baggins's description. After wandering around for hours and falling deeper and deeper into despair, Bilbo was finally at his wit's end and sank into a chair in Gaffer's house.

"I can't believe he's gone," Bilbo sobbed. "He probably fell into the river and drowned or got taken by one of those queer ranger folk and it's all my fault!" He felt sick to his stomach, imagining a dark, terribly tall man on horseback and how easily he could scoop up the little baby hobbit and carry him off to some place far away where Bilbo and Primula and Drogo would never see him again.  _Anybody could have him. That poor helpless_ faunt _is probably scared to death and hungry. Who knows if he's lost or hurt or sick or cold?_

Bell put her arms around him. "Mr. Bilbo, don't cry," she said, though her own voice was strained. "I'm sure he's fine. Gaffer and I are rounding up the whole Shire, and I just heard tell that the swimmers couldn't find no sign of him in the river, so we at least know he ain't drowned." She hugged Bilbo and pat his back. "He probably just got picked up by some traveler on the road who saw him and didn't know who he belonged to. We just gotta make inquiries down the road and then he'll turn up, you'll see. We'll go all the way to the nearest inn if we have to."

She was faking a cheerfulness she didn't feel, and they both knew it. Bilbo took deep breaths to steady his voice. "What am I going to say to his mother and father?" he asked her. "How can I tell them that I've lost their only child, the person most precious to them?"

"Best not think about that now, sir," Gaffer said from the doorway. "I betcha Master Frodo will turn up tomorrow, but even if he don't, there's no use telling 'em when they can't do nothing to help." He put a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "You should go on home and get some rest now."

 _How can I sleep when Frodo is out there somewhere and may need me?_ But Bilbo knew Gaffer was right. He was exhausted and wouldn't be any use to the search party if he couldn't stay awake. "Thank you both so much for everything," he said, and sniffed. "I'll be back in the morning and if no one's heard anything, I'll go out and look for him myself."

"We'll be sure to let you know if there's any news," Bell said, and Bilbo thanked them again as he started the long walk home.

 _I'm a horrible cousin and an even worse guardian,_ he thought with every step.  _How could I have allowed myself to fall asleep like that? What was I thinking?_ He kept his eyes to the ground and tried not to cry again. When he finally reached his house, which he hadn't seen since this morning, he noticed the door was open. This raised his hopes the slightest bit. Maybe someone from the search party had come looking for him with news. Bilbo only hoped it was good.

He stepped inside, closed the door, and nearly lost it again when he saw the abandoned toys on the floor. "Oh Frodo, please be all right," he whispered. He dried his eyes and finally went into his bedroom and turned on the light.

What followed was a scream so loud the neighbors in the next house heard it and came running. When they arrived, they found Bilbo hugging his little cousin as tightly as he could and kissing him over and over as tears streamed down his face.

"Oh Frodo, don't you ever do this to me again!" he sobbed. Frodo blinked in confusion, having just been woken up from a nice sleep curled up on Bilbo's bed, and was still holding the bright red book.

"Bibbo book," he said.

"Can't believe it," somebody muttered. "Here we are tearing the whole Shire upside down and he was here all the time."

Bilbo laughed hysterically. "Here all the time! I can't believe I was so foolish. He just wanted to read the book again, the rascal." He took his unfinished book from Frodo's tiny hands and smiled at it. The pages were ripped in some places where Frodo had turned them too hard and the writing was smudged from where his hands had been, but Bilbo could not possibly have been angry. He hugged him again. "Oh Frodo, thank goodness you're all right."

"You mean to tell me you never even bothered to check the house?" the same neighbor asked in disgust. "Seems like that'd be the obvious thing to do."

Bilbo shook his head, feeling silly but so incredibly relieved as he gave them a sheepish smile. "I never would have imagined he could walk that far. Or that he'd even want to."

"If he'd just woke up from a nap, he likely had plenty of energy," one of the lasses remarked, but the neighbors began to disburse after saying they were glad the  _faunt_ had been discovered safe and sound and that they promised to spread the word. Bilbo stayed where he was, holding Frodo and burying his head in those dark curls.

"Bibbo book," Frodo said.

"Yes, I'll read you the book," Bilbo said with a laugh. "After what's happened today, I'm never letting you out of my sight again."


	10. Goodbye

Now that he had been found, little Frodo Baggins could do no wrong in Bilbo's eyes. It didn't matter how many times he spilled his food or how loudly he cried, Bilbo didn't feel even the slightest twinge of annoyance. Instead he found himself afraid to turn his back for a second and constantly checking the crib or the high chair or the playpen to make sure Frodo was still wherever Bilbo had left him.

Before Frodo woke up in the morning or during his nap time- which was always indoors now, as Bilbo never could bring himself to use the pram again- he would write and rewrite different drafts of certain chapters for his book and then read them to Frodo later that evening. Whichever one he liked the best or was most attentive to was usually the one Bilbo kept. Soon both of them had settled back into a routine, one where Bilbo began to look forward to seeing those blue eyes look up at him with tiny arms outstretched. Which was why he was so surprised when the letter came.

 _Dearest Bilbo,_ Primula had written.  _My friend is just about completely mended now, and her husband is doing much better. I believe we shall be able to return home sometime next week, so you can expect us to come by and pick up Frodo a few days after that. Thank you again, dearly, for looking after him. We've missed him terribly and are very much looking forward to seeing you both._

Bilbo had thought for sure that he'd be relieved. These past two months had been some of the most trying times in his life, and considering the adventures he'd had, that was saying a lot. He'd thought that when Primula's letter came, he'd be dancing for joy.

Instead it made him want to cry.

"Bibbo!" Frodo called him. He was holding a stuffed bear. "Look at bear," he said, and proceeded to make the teddy bear walk across the floor.

"I see him," Bilbo said, and set the letter on the mantelpiece. "Frodo, do you know Mummy is coming home soon?"

Frodo looked up. "Huh?"

"Your mum and da. They just wrote your Uncle Bilbo a letter saying that they're coming back to take you home." He knelt down to look Frodo in the eyes. "Are you excited?"

Frodo smiled. "Mumma!" he shouted, and jumped up and down. "Mumma, Mumma!"

It was selfish, he knew, but Bilbo couldn't help feeling disappointed that he sounded so excited.

* * *

For the next few days, Bilbo tried to engrain baby Frodo into his mind. More likely than not, he wouldn't see the little lad for some time, and he would be completely changed by then. He memorized the softness of his skin, the sparkle in his eyes when he'd look up, that way he had of choosing just one of Bilbo's fingers to hold onto when he sat in his lap. He began to cherish those moments of watching Frodo wake up, play with bubbles in the bathtub, feeling his head rest against his chest when he'd fall asleep, and the sound of his laughter when Bilbo tickled him and played peek-a-boo.

And so he was ready, though terribly sad, when finally the day came when there was a knock on the door. Frodo had been sitting on the floor with his toys while Bilbo had been gazing out at his garden pondering what flowers and fruits he should ask Gaffer to plant, and both of them looked up at the sudden interruption. Frodo scrambled to his feet and actually managed to make it to the door before Bilbo and give the handle a good tug.

"Mumma, Da!" he screamed, and ran straight into her arms. Bilbo stood back and smiled warmly as mother, father, and son were reunited with hugs and kisses all around. He felt an ache for his own parents, but pushed it back so he could invite his cousins inside.

"Oh darling, we missed you so much!" Primula said, squeezing her son tightly. "Was he good for you, Bilbo? I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

"Truly, he was no trouble at all," Bilbo said. "I quite enjoyed having him here." He ruffled the dark curls. "I shall miss him terribly. We had fun together, didn't we, Frodo?"

"You'll see each other again in September, or if not then, at Yule," Drogo said. "In the meantime, we have to see about getting Frodo's things out of here and into the carriage."

"So soon?" Bilbo asked. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay a while? I have plenty of room and I'm sure you must be tired from the trip."

Drogo shook his head. "No no, we've accepted your hospitality long enough. Much as we've enjoyed seeing you, we miss our home and would like to return to it as soon as possible."

Bilbo shrugged. "All right, suit yourselves. But at least let me help you with the moving."

For the next half hour, Bilbo silently said goodbye to the crib, the high chair, the baby bathtub, the changing table (though changing nappies was one aspect of caring for a  _faunt_ he was not going to miss), the toys, the baby clothes, the rocking chair, the playpen, and- he shuddered- the pram. As far as he knew, Primula and Drogo had no idea that he'd lost Frodo, and he hoped it would stay that way. Frodo sat on the floor while they worked, sucking his pacifier and cuddling his stuffed bear. When they had finished and everything was in the carriage, Primula scooped him up and faced Bilbo.

"Well sweetheart, it's time to say goodbye to Uncle Bilbo."

Frodo didn't seem to understand. He simply blinked and let his pacifier fall out his mouth as he said, "Bibbo." Bilbo picked it up and handed it to Drogo, then held out his arms to Primula.

"May I?" She handed Frodo to him and Bilbo embraced the little lad closely, blinking back tears. "I'll miss you, Frodo. You come back and see your uncle very soon, all right?" He kissed him on the cheek and handed him back to his mother. "You will visit again soon, won't you?"

"Of course we will," she said, and she kissed Bilbo's cheek and Drogo embraced him before they turned around. Frodo had his head on his mother's shoulder, and as she began to walk out the door with him and Bilbo stood there waving, it finally seemed to dawn on Frodo that they were leaving.

"No!" he cried, reaching out his little hand. "Bibbo!"

"It's time to say goodbye to Uncle Bilbo," Drogo said gently.

"Bibbo!" Frodo screamed and began to cry. He squirmed in Primula's arms and she held him tighter.

"Bilbo, I believe he thinks you've adopted him," she said. She bounced Frodo in her arms, cooing to him. "Hush now, you'll see each other again soon. Frodo, aren't you happy to see Mummy and Da?"

"Have safe travels, and write me so I know you got there safely," Bilbo called out to them, but he didn't walk them out to their wagon as he knew he should. As he moved to close the front door, he was forced to walk past the spare room, and he felt an awful ache in his heart at seeing how empty it was. He sank into his chair and cried for a few moments. It struck him how quiet the house was without a high little voice babbling baby gibberish in it.

"A part of me wishes I  _could_  adopt that little Baggins," he said. But he shook his head and picked up his pipe, determined to push the thought away.

He knew he would never have the chance to adopt Frodo in a million years.


End file.
